THE PRETTIEST TREE 



PZ 

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LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 

Chap.Pji? Copyright No._ 

Sheli'.^SM 


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UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 























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I 







Sunni) j)out* Series.—Uol. UI 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 

And Other Stories 


BY 

Anna Burnham Bryant 


BOSTON 

pilgrim press 

CHICAGO 





rz 7 

'P*- 


47000 

Copyright, 1899, 

By Anna Burnham Bryant. 


TWO COPIES RECEIVED, 



us- <5-15-3 








CONTENTS 


The Prettiest Tree 
Flowers for the Church 
“ I Know She Did n’t Mean To ” . 

Bertie’s Commandment 

Roy’s Marbles. 

Little Morning-glory 

Was It Real Loving? . * 

Crossing the Brook 

The Way to Get On in the World 

Skin-deep or Heart-deep . 

Roy’s Valentine . 

Pet’s Hard Words .... 
The King’s Forerunner . 

Her Busy Day . 

Going to God’s House 
A Little Too Sure .... 
A Letter to Santa .... 
Gritty’s Choosing .... 



































































































































* 














* 























































































































































































THE PRETTIEST TREE 


T HE children had been “ squabbling,” if 
you know what that is, all the after¬ 
noon. It was about trees — which was the 
prettiest tree in all the world. 

“ I say oak, because it makes such pretty 
wreaths for your hat, and 
sashes and shoulder- 
bands ! ” said Laura. 


Pooh! it’s 


pine! 



cried Alice. “Tall and 
straight and always sing¬ 
ing and saying things up 
in the tops of ’em. I say 
pine.” 

“No, it isn’t, it’s maple!” put in Cora. 
“ The leaves are as handsome as flowers.” 

“What about elm trees?” asked Lucy. 
“ I think” — 

“ All of you hush and stop telling what 


5 






6 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 



you think,” said father, 
who was tired of the 
noise they made. 
“Wait till this after¬ 
noon and see what tree 
I come bringing home 
on my shoulder. I’m 
sure it’s the prettiest 
tree in the world this 
time o’ year, and you 
will all say so.” 

And so they did, for 
it was a Christmas 
tree, and they all 
looked like little Minna 
in the picture. 





AND OTHER STORIES 


7 



FLOWERS FOR THE CHURCH 



ITTLE Belle loved the church so much 


1 —; that she was always asking what she 
could do for it. The first reason that she loved 
it for was because papa and mamma did. She 
saw how they planned everything with a 
thought of it. There were a great many things 
to think of, but the church always came first. 
When any money came into the house, the 
“ church money” was put away in a little red 
velvet box before anybody touched a cent of it. 
When the week seemed to have less minutes 
than usual in it, so that Saturday morning 
found mamma with a lot of piled-up duties, 
Belle used to hear her say, “ Well, now, is 



THE PRETTIEST TREE 


everything ready for Sunday? We will see 
to that the first thing.” 

So it is no wonder that the little girl 
grew up with the feeling that whatever else 
had to go without, the church must not, and 
whatever else was left undone, Sunday and 
everything that belonged to it must be looked 
after. Such notions grow up with one. 
They are hardly ever learned by telling. 
You get them without knowing it if you stay 
long with people who live that way. 

But little Belle used to like to know the 
reasons of things, and she asked her mamma 
one day to tell her why money and time and 
everything else were God’s first, and only 
theirs afterwards. 

“ Because we are Jesus’ disciples,” mamma 
said, “ and he left word for us to keep busy 
doing just one thing in the world as long 
as we stay in it, and that is to preach the 
gospel.” 

“ Why, mamma ! ” said Belle. “ You don’t 
preach any! You are just only a common 


AND OTHER STORIES 


9 


“ I help,” said mamma, smiling. “ I al¬ 
ways save a little money out of all I have to 
help send missionaries to preach in other 
countries, ‘ to all nations,’ as Jesus said. 
And I give a little time to teaching in the 
Sunday-school. And I’m trying to make 



Just only a common lady ” 


you and Harry love God’s work everywhere 
so that one of these days I shall have two 
little missionaries going where I could n’t.” 

“ Then every single thing you do for the 
church is one way of minding Jesus ! ” said 
Belle in a glad voice. 






IO 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


“ Every single thing! ” said mamma. 
“ Sometimes people don’t think of that, and 
they grudge the time they are asked to 
give to helping along in the little home 
churches, and they don’t think it is of much 
account to teach boys and girls in the Sun- 
day-school, and they wish they could go to 
China or Japan or somewhere and have their 
names in the Missionary Herald. Sometimes 
that seems to me the best thing ! But then 
I comfort myself with thinking that if God 
wanted me to do that work, he would say so. 
And somebody wants to stay at home and 
see to things. When the country wants sol¬ 
diers, it is the men who go out to fight; but, 
after all, the women and girls who let them 
go do their part to save the country.” 

“ I ve thought up something I can do 
to help preach the gospel!” said Belle. 
“They’re going to have a Mish’nary Con¬ 
cert over to our church, and I’m going to 
bring the ladies lots of flowers to do it with.” 

“ That is a very good way to begin help¬ 
ing,” said mamma. “ Don’t you know what 


AND OTHER STORIES 


I I 

somebody says about flowers ? He calls 
them ‘ living preachers ’ — 

“Each cup a pulpit, 

Every leaf a book.” 










12 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


44 1 KNOW SHE DID N'T MEAN TO” 

ABY Alee 
came in 
with 
stream¬ 
ing eyes 
and a 
pu cker 
ed chin, 
while she 
held up 
two little 
crushed 

fingers that made mamma spring from her 
chair and run for soft old handkerchiefs and 
the “ calendula ” bottle. 

Oh, my darling, how did you do it ? " she 
questioned tenderly, “ doing them up ’’ as 
none but mother-surgeons can do up hurt 
fingers. “ Tell me all about it.” 

“ I know she did n’t mean to ! ” sobbed the 




AND OTHER STORIES 


13 


poor baby. “ I know Dorothy did n’t! But 
we was out in the barn togevver, and — I 
know she did n’t mean to, mower ! — she 
dropped the cover of the corn-bin right down 
on my fingers ! ” 

Mamma kissed the hurt fingers again with 
a mist in her eyes at the thought of what a 
brave little sweetheart it was to put it so — 
excuses first, the trouble afterward. Do we 
all dc so — do we ever do so? “Nellie 
was so mean ! She lost my ball! ” “ Rob 
is the most careless boy in this whole world 
— he tore my new book a-purpose! ” 

That is the way many boys and girls will tell 
of their mishaps. Why not try my little 
sweetheart’s way — put the good first ? Say 
you “ know they did n’t mean to.” Ten 
times out of a dozen you will hit the exact 
truth. 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


H 


BERTIE'S COMMANDMENT 

—-♦-— 

HE children had been a 
whole week learning 
the commandments. 
When every one was 
“perfect” they were 
going to have their 
names sent to the 
little Sunday-school 
paper which their 
teacher gave them, 
and some day — what do you suppose ? — 
there all their three names would be, staring 
right at them out of the paper! Bertie and 
Louie and May, all three, so that everybody 
would know and begin to whisper all around, 
“ Those children are in the Honor Roll! 
They have learned all the Ten Command¬ 
ments ! ” 

But mamma said it was no good learning 
commandments without practising them. 




ARrD OTHER STORIES 


15 


I think that I shall let each one of you 
choose a commandment to live by this week,” 
she said. “ Of course you have to take 
them all, and yet everybody in the world 
ought to spend most of his strength trying 
to keep the one that is hardest for him. 
1 know which one May will have to practise 
on.” 

“The ‘ not-coveting’ one,” pouted May 
with a funny little pucker. “ Because you 
say I am always wanting everything I see 
that anybody else has. And grandma is 
always saying, ‘Take care, May! Remem¬ 
ber the Tenth Commandment! ’ ” 

“Tell me ’bout my mandment!” said 
Louie, resting her little fat elbows on mam¬ 
ma’s knee. 

“ Perhaps you had better have the one 
about minding mother,” smiled mamma, 
with a sly little look that made Louie’s face 
grow red, remembering how she went out of 
the garden gate yesterday when mamma said 
not to. “ That is what ‘ honor ’ means, partly. 

‘ Honour thy father and thy mother/ Only 


i6 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


six words, you see. Perhaps it will help you 
to remember mamma’s words better.” 

“ Now it’s Bertie’s turn ! ” screamed both 
the children, as if this were some new kind 
of game where each had a “ turn.” “ Now 
what’s Bertie’s ? ” 



“I know,” said Louie. “I can tell the 
very thing he ought to prackiss . The one 
about being good to cats. He treats my 
kitty d’edful.” 

“ Well, little one,” laughed mamma, while 


































AND OTHER STORIES 


l 7 


they all shouted —even Bertie, — “I think 
you are not very far wrong. I shall have to 
hunt up that commandment! ” 

“As if there was any such commandment 
living ! ” cried Bertie. 

“ Oh, I think there is,” said mamma, turn¬ 
ing to the little Bible that was always handy. 
“ How about the 
commandment 
in the Golden 
Text? Bertie 
can read i t,” 
pointing to the 
lawyers answer 
in Luke 10:27, 
and the story that 
Jesus told to ex¬ 
plain it. 

“ Loving your neighbor is n’t loving cats ! ’ 
said Bertie. 

“ Your neighbor is anybody or anything that 
you ought to be kind to,” said mamma, and 
the children ran off to play and left her, 
“ That is the law.” 



BERTIE READING 



THE PRETTIEST TREE 


18 


“ Did n’t ever s’pose there was so much to 
the c’mandments, d’ you ? ” said Bertie. 

“Well, you see, it’s putting us and the 
commandments together! ” said May. 

That is the reason that the dear little crab 
in the picture happens to have all his legs on, 
instead of being pulled to pieces, as Bertie’s 
crabs often were. 





AND OTHER STORIES 


l 9 


ROY'S MARBLES 


OY was a little 
boy who lived 
all alone by 
himself. That 
is what he 
used to say 
about it when 
people asked 
him'. Of 
course he had 
father and 
mother, and 
there was 
even an uncle 
or two in the 
house a good 
deal of the 
time, and 
Aunt Hester always lived there. But Roy 




20 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


meant that there were no real people, no* 
body you could play with. 

So he had to go off to the neighbors for 
playmates. That is a very pleasant way to 
do, but the mothers do not often like it, as 
you little folks know, for it takes you out 
from under their careful eyes and you learn 
to be selfish and naughty. 

Roy’s playmate was the sweetest little fel¬ 
low ! He had deep blue eyes with the love¬ 
liest light in them, just like lake sparkles 
on a sunny day. Roy’s were blue, too, but 
his had sparks in them, temper sparks, that 
were not so pleasant. Roy often “ got mad,” 
but his little neighbor, Freddie, did n’t; and 
he was sometimes very selfish, but Freddie 
let him have what he wanted and do as he 
liked. So they never had any quarrels, as the 
other boys did. This was why mamma let 
them play together all summer and even used 
to say to herself sometimes : “ How lucky it 
is that Roy and Freddie play together so 
sweetly! ” 

But one morning mamma happened to be 



AND OTHER STORIES 



2 1 

































































22 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


at her chamber window and heard voices 
down in the court. She had been making 
beds and was putting the pillows out to air, 
and the voices floated up to her and she 
leaned out to listen. 

“ I tell ’oo I don’t ’member ’bout which was 
your right marbles, and so I sha’n’t give 
you any.” 

It was Roy who was speaking. Mamma 
saw Freddie’s little grieved lip and the pucker 
of his gentle chin, and one of those pillows 
tumbled right out of the window as she 
turned quickly and ran down-stairs and out 
into the yard where the children were. 

“Roy, what does this mean?” she cried, 
taking hold of his shoulder quite sharply, 
while she put her arm around Freddie and 
hugged his face right up to her. “What 
are you making your dear little friend feel 
bad about ? ” 

“ I don’t know ’bout his old marbles,” 
sulked Roy, turning his back on her. “ He 
lent ’em to me to look at, and now ’ey’s all 
mixed up in my pottit, ’n’ I should be giving 




AND OTHER STORIES 23 

him some of my marbles if I tried to Vide 

y yy 

em. 

“ You come into the house and I ’ll tell you 
a story,” said mamma, taking a hand of each 
of them. “ I don’t believe you have ever 
heard about Zacchaeus.” 

When the long, beautiful story was all 
done they all sat still, thinking a while. 
Mamma hoped Roy would see what she 
meant by it, and he did. 

“ I dess I ’ll dive Fweddie four times as 
much marbles,” he said in a low voice. “ I 
dess I ’ll be as good as Zer-kee-us.” 



24 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


LITTLE MORNING-GLORY 



NEVER, never, 
never can 
grow up to 
that high win¬ 
dow-sill ! ” said 
a little green slip 
of a morning-glory vine 
down under the window. 
“ I believe I ’ll just go 
back to my warm brown 
bed and never try a bit! ” 
“You silly little 
Glory! ” said Mother 
Vine, popping her dusty 
head up out of the dirt. 
“All you have to do is 
to grow inch by inch, and climb hand over 
hand on the little rope they have put out for 
you, and some fine morning you can put. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


25 


your face over the sill and nod ‘ How do you 
do ?’ as they sit at breakfast. Don’t you 
want to be a brave little flower and make 
somebody happy ? ” 

“ Of course I do ! ” said little Glory dole¬ 
fully. “But I’m only one little morning- 
glory, and it will take such a lot of flowers to 
cover all those long bare threads they’ve put 
out there!” 

“Don’t you be discouraged!” said the 
wise old mother. “ You will grow faster than 
you have any idea of, and even one little 
bright-faced flower cheers a house up won¬ 
derfully.” 





26 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


WAS IT REAL LOVING? 


Y OU are just the dearest mamma in the 
world ! ” said Gerald, hugging her so 
hard with both arms that it was very lucky her 
head was on tight, and not like Dorothy’s 
Paris doll’s head, that would n’t bear rough 
handling. He and Dorothy had been having 
a rough-and-tumble play with hoops and 
things, and mamma had stopped it by asking, 
“ I wonder now who loves me ? ” She 
smiled at the answer, as mothers will, no 
matter how their heads ache. 

“ That’s very nice ! ” she said, gently get¬ 
ting out of that smothering tangle of arms, 
for just then up came little Dorothy, who 
always did and said and thought just what 
Gerald started. Two sets of arms were too 
much even for mother. “ But now how 
about dinner ? 1 see a regular African jungle 

of playthings. How am I ever to get the 



AND OTHER STORIES 


27 


table and floor clear enough to get any din¬ 
ner ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t know ! ” said Gerald, turning 
away, as if that were none of his business. 

“ ’N’ / do’ know!” chimed in Dorothy. 

“ Well, then, / do ! ” said mamma, begin¬ 
ning to clear up by way of example. “You 
two little lovers 
of mine are going 
to help me make 
a place fit to live 
in. Away with 
you, dolly babies! 

Be off in your 
stable, jack- 
horses ! Here, 
little — what’s 
that? Don’t want 
to help mamma?” 

“ Don’t want to do working /” whined Ger¬ 
ald. “ That is n’t any fun ! ” 

“ Yat is n’t fun,” echoed Dorothy. 

Mamma stopped and looked at them both, 
sorrowfully and sharply. 





THE PRETTIEST TREE 


“ And my two little children pretended they 
loved me,” she said; and that was all she said. 
But she left the room just as it was till dinner 
time, and then she had a little talk with them 

about real loving. 

■*! 






AND OTHER STORIES 


2 9 


CROSSING THE BROOK 


UST “ a jewel of 
a clay,” father 
said, as he got 
up from the 
breakfast 
table, and took 
down his hat 
and coat to go 
to the office. 
It was one of 
the mornings 
when one 
would rather 
not go to 
offices or 
schools or anything else that would keep you 
away from the beautiful weather. 

“ I would n’t work too hard, little mother,” 
he said, kissing her. “Take the children 




30 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


and get out into the woods somewhere. 
Every hour of this October sunshine is so 
much gold laid up for next winter’s spending.” 

“ Well, dears, how would you like a pic¬ 
nic ? ” she asked, as the hall door shut, and 
the children turned to look at her. 

“ Coe’s Pond would be lovely,” they cried 
both together. 

“ I think it would, myself,” she said, getting 
out the lunch baskets. 

This is how it happened that Ethel and 
Harry were out there in the lovely woodsy 
place you see in the picture. It was n’t very 
far away from the house, but the sweetest 
things grew there. The tall pines sang and 
the pretty brook gurgled as if it knew a thing 
or two worth telling, and they listened and 
pretended they could guess what it said. 

It was crossing this same pretty brook that 
they nearly came to grief. Harry was over 
first, and he held out his hands to mother 
and got her safe across, and then to Ethel, 
but she would n’t come. 

“ I m afraid,” she said. “ You might drop 


AND OTHER STORIES 


3 1 

me in the water. The rocks are so slippery 
and I’d rather get over alone.” 


So she tried, but 
the rocks were too 
slippery. Down she 
went, splash into the 
shallow water. It 
did n’t hurt her a bit, 
and mamma laughed 
as Harry fished her 
out, but she said a 
word or two as she 
wrung out the little 
girl’s clothes like a 
wet pocket-handker¬ 
chief :— 

“ Better take help 
dear. Trust people; i 



when it’s offered, my 
t saves a lot of trouble.” 




32 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


THE WAY TO GET ON IN 
THE WORLD 


f RANDPA, did 
you ever know 
a real boy that 
grew up to be 
anybody?” 
asked Allan 
soberly, taking 
his hands out 
of his hair, .and 
looking up 
earnestly at grandpa — “ a boy outside of a 
book, I mean,” he added hastily, noticing, 
himself, how queer the question sounded. 

“Why, yes, I think I have,” said grandpa, 
understanding pretty well the kind of thoughts 
that were stirring under that curly brown 
wig. (When a man gets old enough he can 
understand boys, but sometimes he has to be 




AND OTHER STORIES 


33 


pretty old.) “A boy, I suppose you mean, 
that I knew all about, from the beginning al¬ 
most ? ” 

“Yes,” said Allan, clasping his hands 
over his knees and waiting. “ And all the 
things he ever did, you know — bad and 
good. They leave the bad ones out — in 
books.” 

“ Well, I knew a boy once who was a real 
boy, and did some bad things, because he 
was a boy and not an angel, but not a great 
many, for from the first I knew about him he 
made up his mind to be good and do right. 
And that boy has grown up to be a splendid 
man, and I often wish the boys who look at 
him could know as I do the secret of his get¬ 
ting on in the world. It is like a story in a 
book, and yet it is a real live story.” 

“ Oh, tell it to me ! ” said Allan. 

“ When he first began going to school the 
lessons were hard, and the teachers were not 
so helpful then as they are now. They be¬ 
lieved in letting a boy work his own way 
through hard places, and any one that would n’t 




% 



THE PRETTIEST TREE 
























































































AND OTHER STORIES 


35 


took the dunce’s place, at the foot of the class. 
But this boy never dropped down there. He 
would no more give up on a hard ‘ sum ’ than 
he would on a tough pine knot that he had 
started splitting. 

Pluck and patience 
were the secrets of 
his getting on with 
his lessons. As he 
went on I noticed 
other things about 
him. There are bad 
boys everywhere, and 
sometimes they tried to get him to go along 
in their ways and ‘ have a good time/ as 
they called it. But this boy knew better. 
In his house the Bible was read so much 
that it never had a chance to get dusty, 
and he knew what it said about breaking 
Sunday, and not minding your father and 
mother, and things of that sort. So to all their 
invitations he said, ‘ No, sir ! ’ and stuck to it.” 

“ The fellows laugh,” said Allan in a 
shamed sort of way. 



36 THE PRETTIEST TREE 

“ He let them laugh. He knew that God 
was with him, and their laughing could not 
hurt him. He went on and did well in 
everything; and when he got out of college 
and other schools he settled down to his busi¬ 
ness, still in the same way he had done things 
right along. He was fair, he was true, he 
was kind — such words are some of the se¬ 
crets of his getting on. He is a great man 
in his profession, and everybody looks up to 
him.” 

“What became of him?” asked Allan. 
“ I want to know the end of him.” 

“ Oh, he is a doctor on our street,” said 
grandpa carelessly. “ He has a boy named 
Allan.” 

“ Grandpa Garfield ! You mean my own 
dear papa! ” 


AND OTHER STORIES 


37 


SKIN-DEEP OR HEART-DEEP 


HAT is what 
grandma was 
always saying: 
“Beauty is 
only s k i n- 
deep.” 

“I don’t 
see,” said 
Hattie one 
day, “ why it 

might not be heart-deep.” 

“ Depends on how you behave. Just be¬ 
cause you have some bright eyes and red 
cheeks and dimples to start with, you ’ll maybe 
think there is n’t any need of going any 
deeper.” 

“Yes, I will!” said Hattie in a sudden 
earnest fit of goodness. “I’m a-going to! 
Maybe,” she added, laughing, “ it will ‘ strike 







THE PRETTIEST TREE 


38 

in ’ like measles, and ‘ end in something seri¬ 
ous,’ as the doctor was afraid they would.’ 

“’T is n’t any laughing matter. The Lord 
looks on the heart, and he must see some 
terrible homely ones 
sometimes.” 

Somehow this little 
talk took root in Hat¬ 
tie’s mind as none of 
grandma’s other talks 
had done, and she began 
really to try to let the 
prettiness “ strike in,” as 
she had said, by doing 
things to fit the face that 
God had given her. 

The first chance she 
had was when mother; 
was trying on a new 
dress that Hattie wanted 

to wear to a picnic. 

“It’s going to be in the most loveliest 
place, mother!” said Hattie. “Tall pine 
trees and a little brook going down, down, 




AND OTHER STORIES 


39 


down all over the stones ! Oh! I wish you 
could go too ! ” 

“ I wish I could ! ” sighed mother. “ But 
I can’t sew so well at a picnic, and you ’re 
only one that’s got to have new clothes made 
in this family.” 

It is so good of your mother to try to 
make all your dresses, and when they don’t 
always quite fit the first time trying, anybody 
would think the little girls might be patient 
and willing to “try, try, try again.” But 
Hattie was n’t. How she did use to fret and 
scowl and wriggle, and “ wish the old dress 
was at Hackney-barney,” wherever that is. 
Somehow to-day, as mother pinned and un¬ 
pinned, and pared out the neck and arm¬ 
holes, a queer little text ran in and out of 
Hattie’s head : “ The Lord is looking ! ” 

“ Looking at what ? ” thought Hattie. “ To 
see how I behave ? To see if I get a scowly 
place on my forehead ? I wonder if he sees 
wrinkles come in my heart ? ” 

Before she was through with such thoughts 
mother was through with her, and sent her 


40 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


off to dress with a loving little pat, and a kiss 
for “ standing, good ” so long. As Hattie 
ran up-stairs she almost stumbled over the 
baby, who was all in a heap on the lower stair 
because he “ ’anted some crusty bread, and 
ev’vybody was too busy to get it for him.” 
Hattie caught the tot up in her arms and ran 



READING TO GRANDMOTHER 


up to her room, and was ready in a minute 
to run down again, like the mouse in “ Hick- 
ory-dickery-dock,” and get him the crustiest, 
beautiful brown piece that ever was baked. 
And she did n’t scold a bit about the crumbs. 
She rocked the darling ever so long, and he 
hugged her with the bread in one fist till the 


AND OTHER STORIES 


41 

crumbles went down her neck. Was n’t that 
being a beautiful sister ? 

You see how it began. Hattie kept trying 
to remember that the Lord was really looking 
at her all the time, and she began to care 
what he thought about her. He likes to see 
little girls kind and gentle to the home folks, 
so Hattie tried to be just that all the time. 
He likes to see people honest and true, and 
anybody can be that. In a good many ways 
the little girl found that she could make her¬ 
self better looking, and other people noticed 
it and spoke of it. Grandma said she “ be¬ 
lieved Hattie was getting to be good-looking 
clear through.” 





42 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


ROY'S VALENTINE 

r 


EW ever have a valentine, 
mother?” Roy meant 
“ Did you ever,” but he 
always said “Jew.” He 
was in his place at the end 
of the long breakfast-table 
and mother was in her 
place behind the coffee-pot 
and the rest of the breakfast-things. Mother’s 
hair was like a piece of smooth, brown satin, 
except a little curly fringe in front that she 
curled on purpose to look pretty, and her 
.collar was pinned “just so,” and everything 
was as neat as a pin about her. 

“ Yes ! ” said mamma, looking over at papa 
and smiling. Then she looked on at Roy 
and her smile faded a little. 

“ I wish my boy could remember to make 
himself look like a gentleman before he 











AND OTHER STORIES 


43 


comes to sit down with ijs! ” she said gently. 
And she sighed as if she did n’t much expect 
that he ever would. 

“ Which do you like best, funny ones or 
nice ones ? ” he said. 

“ Oh, yes, nice, funny ones ! ” she answered, 
pouring papa’s coffee. 

“All right!” said Roy, nodding. “I’m 
saving up my money. It’s most three weeks 
before Valentine’s.” 

A funny thought flashed into Aunt Kate s 
fun-loving brain. Every morning since the 
beginning of her visit Roy had come down 
like this, and had to be sent up to the bath¬ 
room for brushing and “ retouching,” as the 
photographers say. Aunt Kate was a pho¬ 
tographer—just a little bit of a one, for fun, 
with a toy camera. Before she left that 
morning breakfast-table she had a nice little 
image of Roy’s tousled head, taken with her 
“ kodak.” 

She spent the next three weeks “ getting 
ready for Valentine’s.” Pirst she got two 
china plates. Then she painted a picture of 


44 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


Roy in each one. You have seen the hand- 
painted plates that cost so much, with little 
heads or faces in them. In one of Aunt 
Kate’s plates there was a pretty boy with 
the nicest unrumpled hair and daintiest col¬ 
lar. In the other was the Roy that made his 
mother sigh over her breakfast. When they 
were painted and “fired” (that is, with the 
colors baked in to stay) she sent them to 
Roy for a valentine, with a letter about them 
saying that the plate must always match the 
boy that ate out of it. If he liked the good- 
looking gentlemanly one, all he had to do 
was to see that he was ready to use it! 






AND OTHER STORIES 


45 



PET'S HARD WORDS 


I T is n’t the hard lesson that I mind 
about,” said Pet, sitting down with Pet 


(t Oh” said Katy, “you ought to have an auntie like mine /” 

Lammie in her arms. “ It’s the hard words 
in the lesson.” 






46 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


“ Oh,” said Katy, “ you ought to have an 
auntie like mine to learn your Sunday-school 
lesson by! ” 

“ Why, what does she do ? ” 

“ Makes it easy. First thing every Satur¬ 
day afternoon, right after lunch, she tells me 
to come up to her room while she lies down 
to take her nap. My Aunt Jessie always takes 
a nap in the afternoon, and I wish everybody 
did, for then there would be somebody in the 
house when you want ’em. ’Less they are 
asleep, they all have their ‘ afternoon out ’ 
when the sun shines.” 

“ I don’t see how your Aunt Jessie’s nap 
helps your Sunday-school lesson ! ” 

“ Well, my dear child, it does, for this 
reason,” said Katy in her “ grandmother 
voice”; “before she does it, she sets me up 
to her roller-top desk and gives me a red 
pencil. Sometimes it’s a blue one and once 
I had a lovely green one. Then she tells 
me to take my lesson-paper and turn to the 
Bible lesson, and mark every single hard word 
in it with a red mark right underneath. You 


AND OTHER STORIES 


47 


ought to see my paper when I get done! It 
looks as if it was all broken out with the 
measles or something ! Sometimes I mark 
little easy words just for fun! Aunt Jessie 
gives me a little pinch when I do that, and 
says she’s ’shamed of me. But the real 
truly hard ones she wakes up and ’splains to 
me just as nice; and so, you see, when Sun¬ 
day comes it is n’t hard a bit to study my les¬ 
son over and have it per¬ 
fect. Oh, you ought to 
have an Aunt Jessie ! ” 

“ Wish’t I had ! ” said 
Pet; “orared lead-pencil 
anyway.” 

“ Sometimes it is n’t a 
pencil at all,” said Katy. “ She takes a pin¬ 
cushion sometimes, just as they did in the 
Rollo Books, and gives me a hat-pin or a 
darning-needle with a lump of sealing-wax on 
the end of it for a head, and then she makes 
me stick pinholes into all the hard words.” 

“ How would a mamma do if you had n’t any 
Aunt Jessie ? ” asked mamma, smiling down at 



THE PRETTIEST TREE 


the two little girls, who did n’t know that she 
had been listening. 

“ She would do lovely /” cried Pet, jumping 
up so quick that Pet Lammie went all in a 
heap on the floor. 

“ Get your lesson-paper,” said mamma, 
laughing, “ and I ’ll see what can be done 
about pencils or pin-cushions ! ” 




AND OTHER STORIES 


49 


THE KING'S FORERUNNER 



HERE was a little girl 
sent from God whose 
name was — Grace! ” 
The little girl 
was n’t sleeping or 
dreaming, though 
she sat up straight 
and rubbed her 
eyes and looked 
hard at the 
minister to see 
if he did actually say such words right up 
there in the pulpit. 

Yes, he did! Out of the Bible, too, or it 
looked so. He did read the queerest things 
•out of that Bible, especially in the children’s 
sermon. Somehow his spectacles seem to 
bother him more in those sermons than in 
any other reading. 



5 ° 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


“ Or, no,” — he was saying, when she be¬ 
gan to listen again, — “I believe it doesn’t 
read exactly so. The Bible words are, 

1 There was a man sent from God whose 
name was John.’ We want to get it straight, 
to be sure, just as it is there. 

“ But, dear children,” he went on, pushing 
up his spectacles and looking down at “ the 
dear little heads in the pew,” and talking at 
them, “ it really does n’t make a bit of differ¬ 
ence. Every little girl and boy of you all is 
sent from God, as much as John was and on 
exactly the same errand — ‘ To make his 
paths straight.’ That was his business. So 
it is yours. You are each one ‘the King’s 
forerunner.’ ” 

Of course there was more to the sermon, 
though not very much more, because the 
minister was a wise man and knew just how 
much they could remember ; but Grace heard 
no more,, and went home with her head full 
of what I have told you. Once in the house, 
and her things off, she sat down to think it 
over. Mother looked in on her way to the 


AND OTHER STORIES 51 

dining-room and thought she was playing 
with the baby to keep him good till the bell 
rang; but Grace was very busy indeed about 
her own business, as chil¬ 
dren are apt to be when 
the older folks think that 
they are only playing 
and laughing. 

“ Straight paths ! ” she 
said to herself betweejn 
the kisses. “ 1 just wish 
I did know how to make 
a path for Jesus ! I’d get 
him into this house quick 
as a wink ! ” 

The people in Grade’s 
house were lovely, but 
they did n’t love Jesus. 

They never went to church or Sunday-school. 
They stayed at home and read newspapers. 
All at once Grade clapped her hands and 
almost dropped the baby. 

“ I believe I do know a way to be a little 
‘ King’s forerunner’! ” she cried. “ I ’m go- 



5 2 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


ing to try to make a ‘ straight path ’ for 
mamma to get to church this evening. She 
often says she would if it was n’t for getting 
so tired doing the Sunday night dishes.” 

“Why, yes, I don’t know but I would, dear! ” 
said mamma in pleased surprise, when Gracie 
asked her. “ I don’t know when I’ve set 
foot inside a church door. Always seemed to 
be so many things in the way, somehow.” 

“ Crooked paths ! ” murmured Gracie to 
herself. 



So mamma and Gracie went together that 
evening, for papa would n’t. He said he 
would rather stay at home and watch the 




V- 


AND OTHER S TORIES 53 

baby. They heard a beautiful sermon, and 
mother liked it and wanted to go again. 
After that, Gracie took care to help her every 
Sunday night, and she did go often. 

This was the way Gracie began being a 
King’s forerunner. By and by Jesus found 
a way all made for him to her mother’s heart, 
and she told the church committee when 
they asked her how she found Jesus that it 
was all Grade’s doing. You see, you don’t 
need to say anything, always. You can just 
try to make it easy for people to be good. 
That is making a path for Jesus. 


54 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


HER BUSY DAY 


HAT little girl is 
going to help 
mother to-day ? ” 
Usually there 
was a chorus of 
“ I’s ” that gave 
mother a chance 
to pick and choose 
between her help¬ 
ers. But, if you 
must know, there 
was something very nice going to happen. 
It was a picnic — a Sunday-school picnic — 
and show me the little boy or girl that would 
like to stay at home from that and help 
their mother do the Monday washing. The 
fact was, mother had forgotten it herself. 

“ Don’t all speak at once,” she said, with 
a little half-smile at the silence. 




AND OTHER STORIES 


55 


“ We-ell — it’s the — it’s the picnic day ! ” 
stammered Janie and Kitty and Sue, and 
some of their lips stuck out. Polly didn’t 
speak. She was looking at mother’s pale 
cheeks and tired eyes, and from them to the 
great big washtubs. 



“ I’m not going to any old picnic! ” she 
cried suddenly. “ Old poky thing, with dust 
in your eyes and your best dress on all 
day — starched all up stiff as a board, too, 
and you can’t get a drink o’ water for twenty 
hours! I'm going to stay with my own 
mamma and play in water all day long! You 
can go to your own picnics and welcome! ” 
Do you think that was funny talk for a little 



56 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


Sunday-school girl ? Let me tell you half 
the sweetest, loveliest things in the world are 
done with a laugh and a smile and a bit of fun 
to salt them. It helps to make people willing 
you should help them. Nobody wants you 
to get a backache helping. Pretend you do 
it for fun, as Polly did, and laugh and be 
happy. Jesus knows all about the self-denial, 
and he is the only one you want to know it. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


57 


GOING TO GOD'S HOUSE 


T HE first thing Sunday morning 
Gracie went up to grand¬ 
mother’s room to make a visit. 
She found grandmother so full 
of aches that she could not go 
to church, so she said she 
guessed she would go down 
again and get some pretty 
yellow dandelions out in the 
grass. 

“ No, indeed ! Not on Sun¬ 
day ! ” 

“ O dear, I wish there wasn’t 
any Sunday dandelions! said Gracie. 
“ Sunday out-doors are just as good as any 
other kind of out-doors ! 

“ I never go out for fun Sundays,” said 
grandmother. ‘‘It is n t the way to treat 
God’s day. But when you can put your 




58 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 



w.;«v.v.>v. 

1 m 

§§ f 

£v ; x::#2x& 

•yiiXv 





*£: 




















AND OTHER STORIES 


59 


meeting-clothes on, and take your hymn- 
book and walk along to God’s house with 
good thoughts in your mind — why, that kind 
of out-doors is like the prayers at home or 
when you get there.” 

Gracie went down-stairs slowly, thinking it 
over. She was such a little girl that nobody 
had ever made much difference in days for 
her. 

“ I has n’t any meeting-clothes, I fink ! ” 
she said to herself, bobbing down the long 
stairs slowly. “ I know what I could do ! I 
dess I ’ll det my dramma’s ! ” 

That was n’t very nice to do, was it ? She 
ought to have asked before she touched any¬ 
body’s things, but she didn’t. It wasn’t a 
minute before she was down at the gate, 
looking like the little witch in the picture. 

On the way to church, she picked a lot of 
flowers, two whole handfuls. There were 
dandelions and daisies and buttercups and 
things some folks call weeds in these two 
bouquets, but the minister did n’t. He came 
along, and helped her pick some, and said, 


6o 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


“ That’s very nice,” when she told him they 
were for his Sunday pulpit. And when he 
went up into it, he took a few and laid beside 
his Bible. But first he kissed the little girl 
and sent her home to get some of her own 
“ meeting-clothes ” on instead of grand¬ 
mother’s bonnet. 



AND OTHER STORIES 


61 


A LITTLE TOO SURE 


ING a song of Christmas, 
Pocketful of fun ! 

That was the song 
Aunt Hilda was 
waked by five morn¬ 
ings out of six all 
through the month of 
December. 

“ Dear boy ! ” she 
would say as she 
rubbed her eyes open, 
“ I do hope he won’t 

be disappointed.” 

You see there was a little room for disap¬ 
pointment, for the pocketful of fun depended 
on Lennie’s good behavior. If he was very, 
very good, mamma had promised that Christ¬ 
mas Day should bring him the handsomest 
red sled to be found in Paxon. Three whole 




62 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


weeks of goodness ! No wonder Aunt Hilda 
felt anxious. 

“ Pooh ’n’ nonsense ! ” said Lennie proudly. 
“ You suppose I can’t stay top o’ the class 
for three weeks ? ” (That was the special 
kind of goodness mamma meant. You must., 
know that Lennie was one of those boys who 
find a great deal of fun in plaguing their 
teacher. Mother’s idea of goodness went a 
good deal by his marks in “ deportment.”) 

“ Better be too careful than not careful 
enough! ” said father, noticing the foolish, 
boastful airs he put on. “ It is very easy to 
drop a little when you think you are doing 
pretty well. And I understand your teacher 
counts in tardy marks and whispering and all 
such high crimes and misdemeanors.” 

I think it was that very forenoon that Len¬ 
nie found the loveliest squeaky slate pencil. 
Oh, it fairly set your teeth ot\ edge! He 
forgot all about sleds and Christmas Sind be- 
ing a good boy and everything he ought to 
have remembered. All that forenoon little 
shrieks and squeaks kept coming from Len- 


AND OTHER STORIES 


63 


nie’s corner, and the teacher was on the 
watch, though she did n’t mean to speak till 
she knew who made the trouble. 

Pretty soon she did speak, and you can 
guess what kind of a report Lennie carried 
home that month. He 
was a sorry boy, the rest 
of that day. For the 
teacher gave him some 
of her very blackest 
marks for that forenoon’s 
mischief. She said he 
was so sly as well as 
mischievous, and showed 
himself so selfish and 
troublesome. A boy 
might whisper because he forgot, or he might 
drop his slate by accident, but he could n’t be 
so mean as Lennie was about that pencil with¬ 
out being mean clear through. What do 



you think about it ? 

Did he get his sled ? Not that Christmas ! 
Mother said it was good enough for him, and 
father always said what mother did. But I 




6 4 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


am glad to say Santa did not leave him out 
when the next one came, for he was a better 
boy next year and deserved it. 




AND OTHER STORIES 


65 


A LETTER TO SANTA 


L ILY and Bennie talked it over a long 
time before they did it. They were 
not perfectly sure that Santa would like it. 
He was such a queer old fellow. 


“ Perhaps it 
would be better 
to write it to 
Mrs. Santa!” 
said Lily. 

“ Oh, well,” 
said Bennie, “ I 
don’t suppose it 
would make any 
difference. They 
prob’ly open all 
the letters right 
in the family.” 
They talked so long about it that it was 
fairly Christmas eve before they made up 



WRITING THE LETTER 


















\ 


66 THE PRETTIEST TREE 





















The house is full and running over 


















AND OTHER STORIES 


67 


their minds to write the letter. And by that 
time it was too late to send it. He would be 
out on his rounds and sure to miss it. 

“There’s no way now but to put it in the 
stockings,” they decided. 

This was the letter when it was done : — 

Dear Mr. Claus , — Please don’t be mad 
with us for writing, but if you please we want 
to speak to you about our last year’s presents. 
Would you feel bad and think we did n’t care 
about ’em any more if we gave them all away 
to somebody ? Because the house is full and 
running over with the beautiful things you 
have given us so many years, and mamma is 
always saying she doesn’t know what to do 
with so many playthings round under foot, 
and father stubs his toe every other step over 
something or other and says: “I do wish 
those two children would never have another 
thing given them as long as they live! ” 
And because down at the foot of our street 
(in the little brown house with two doors and 
green-paper shades to the windows) there is 


68 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


a lot of little children who don’t seem to have 
any presents hardly. So if you dicint care, 
we would love to make up a big bundle of 
our nicest ones and send over there to-mor¬ 
row. Please let us know about it. 

Your loving children. 

P. S. — Dear, darling Santa, we do want 
some new ones, for all papa says! 

The children found the funniest letter from 
Santa next morning! It said: “Yes, do 
what you Ve a mind to ! ” And there were 
a lot of new presents. 


AND OTHER STORIES 


69 


GRITTY'S CHOOSING 



> RITTY had n’t any mother, and 
that is almost always hard for 
a little girl, and hard, too, for 
the people who have to take 
care of her. Grandma Pack¬ 
ard . tried hard to understand her, and got 
along a great deal better than you would 
have expected, when you think what a beau¬ 
tiful, sweet-faced, gentle-mannered, lovely 
old lady she was, and what a rosy romp 
Gritty was. Somehow it never seemed as if 
they were made to go together. Grandma 
loved to see little girls at their books. Gritty 
did n’t. Grandma could n’t see any use in 
climbing stone walls. Gritty could. Grandma 
thought the place for a little girl when her 
lessons were done was in the house, sitting 
like a lady on a three-legged stool, sewing a 
square of patchwork. Gritty did n’t. And 



70 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 



so it went on. They were always like an odd 
cup and saucer, and you could n’t match them. 

The trouble was that when they could n’t 
think alike, Gritty did n’t give up her thoughts 
and take grandma’s way. 


That is the way little girls should do. It 
may seem hard at first, but it grows easier by 
and by, and it is the right thing to do any¬ 
way. But Gritty just “gritted” her little, 
square, white teeth and wouldn’t! That is 


AND OTHER STORIES jj 

what poor, dear grandma is telling those 
other two nice old ladies there in the picture 
this very minute. 

“ Why, I don’t know what to do with the 
child ! ” said grandma. “ I can’t let her grow 
up not knowing anything. And she can’t be 
made to love her book. 

I Ve had to lock her in 
her room this very af¬ 
ternoon to learn her 
spelling-lesson. If she 
has been a good girl, 

I shall go and let her 
come down to tea in 
the front parlor, be¬ 
cause there’s cream 
biscuits and honey, 
and she’s very fond of 
’em for supper.” 

“ Please let me go,” 
said Aunt Susy Merriman eagerly, starting 
up with her hand on the door. “ You see 
I’ve always taken a great fancy to the dear 
child, and I’d like to have a talk with her.” 



GRITTY 


72 


THE PRETTIEST TREE 


“Why, yes, — if you like,” said grandma 
slowly. “ If you think you can make any¬ 
thing of her.” 

When Aunt Susy unlocked the door, there 
was no Gritty locked in there. Where was 
she ? An open window and a tall cherry tree 
beside it was the answer. Aunt Susy ran 
and looked out. 

“ There ’s biscuits and honey, Gritty ! ” 
Gritty came slowly back up the tree. She 
liked Aunt Susy. Also she liked honey. 

“ Your grandma sent me,” said Aunt Susy. 
“ How much she thinks of you, does n’t she ? ” 
“Thinks I don’t know anything,” said 
Gritty sullenly. “ Wish’t I could be a wise 
man by wishing, same as Solomon.” 

“ Oh, my dear child,” said Aunt Susy, “ he 
did n’t wish himself into wisdom. He chose. 
So must you and everybody. What will you 
give up for it ? That’s the question. Choose, 
Gritty! You can’t be good or wise without 
it. Will you remember ? ” 

“Yes’m,” said Gritty as they went down 
together. 























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